These Lost Moments
by Chasing Uncertainties
Summary: All the lost moments of Harry Potter that were too good not to record. Fluff, drama, happiness, sadness - you name it - will ensue. Written for HPFC's Summer 2013 Comp of Awesomeness. Chapter 3 - Salazar Slytherin and house politics.
1. Of Rain and Pivotal Kisses

**Chapter 1 Title: **Of Rain and Pivotal Kisses  
**Chapter 1 Summary: **James gives Lily a pivotal kiss, Lily is surprised. What more needs to be said?  
**Chapter 1 Word Count: **599 (not including A/Ns)

**Challenge: **History of Magic (Option [a]: write a happy/humorous/heart-warming story with a maximum word limit of 600 words).  
**House: **Slytherin  
**Wand: **TBA  
**Please PM my full score to me. Thanks!**

And to anyone reading this, please review!

* * *

"Oh, come on, Evans!" James Potter exclaims, trailing behind a certain angry redhead. He looks desperate. The rain running down his face soaks him to the bone, making him appear even more pathetic as he pursues Lily.

"Explain to me why I should listen to you," snaps the irritated seventeen year-old. "You ruined a perfectly nice date to Hogsmeade with my _boyfriend, _who I wanted to enjoy the day with."

"-I told you, Padfoot and I were passing by anyway-"

"Oh, the entire population of Hogwarts knows you and Sirius wouldn't just pop into Madam Pudifoot's for a romantic cup of tea. You're fooling _nobody_! Why did you have to ruin a fine afternoon with William?"

"William's a git," whines James. "I'm much nicer, much better at Quidditch anyway…"

"He's an intellectual!" Protests Lily.

"He's _boring_," retorts James. "The Lily Evans I know would never want to go to Madam Pudifoot's."

Lily's face breaks into a reluctant smile and she begins to laugh, then cackle in her shouldn't-be-attractive, Lily-esque way. "Madam Pudifoot's," she gasps. "I was having tea in there. The fourteen year-old me would've been ashamed. Can you believe it, James?"

"Exactly my point," James responds promptly. "See, you just started dating him so that you'd have an excuse to say no to me."

"Excuse me?" She sputters. "What're you on about now? I like William, I'd never use him like that!"

"Oh, yeah?" asks James, raising an eyebrow and looking cocky.

"Yeah," Lily replies, raising her nose in the air and crossing her arms.

"What if I did _this?_"

And with that, sopping wet lips and hair and all, James leans over and kisses her smack on the mouth.

"_Potter! _What was _that_?"

"What?" James asks sheepishly. "It's not as though William saw… Evans, you're too good for him! Don't you see? That every time I annoy you, it's just to get your attention? Don't you notice that you're the one I _always _want to talk to? I've liked you for years! Come on…"

Although Lily can't deny that even though their kiss was brief, and it was much nicer than any she's ever shared with William, she's unsure how to feel. She's been unhappy with William for a while now. James is right; he's _boring_. He talks only of books. Someone like Potter, who she hid any feelings for till now, would be exciting to date.

'_Every time I annoy you, it's just to get your attention.'_

He'd give _much _nicer kisses. Snogging him would probably be enjoyable; maybe it wouldn't feel as though her face was being eaten. Just looking at his lips…

"Lily? Earth to Lily? Please say something. I'm sorry if I upset you." James is rambling now, and even though Lily used to find it deathly annoying, it's suddenly endearing. "Come on Lily, I'm sorry. I'll go now. I promise."

Lily looks at him for a bit longer. Why does he seem so _attractive _all of a sudden? Was one fleeting kiss really _that _pivotal? Wasn't she mad at him before? How angry will William be?

"Come here, you idiot," she responds simply.

She pulls James toward her, and they kiss in the rain.

Lily smiles, eyes closed; it doesn't feel as though her face is being eaten.

When she pulls away, James looks rather dazed. "You've been waiting for that for a while, haven't you?" Lily asks. She continues, "I'm not sure how to tell William…"

"Let's save that for later," he suggests, wrapping his chilly hand around hers and walking up towards the castle.

Rain is now James's favourite weather.

* * *

Fluff? Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...


	2. Facing Himself

**Chapter 2 Title:** Facing Himself  
**Chapter 2 Summary:** Blaise Zabini can't face his inner turmoil. So he runs.  
**Chapter 2 Word Count:** 928 (not including A/Ns)

**Challenge:** Defence Against the Dark Arts (Option [3]: Write a story in which a character is running from something.) _- Optional Quote used: 'Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.'-William Butler Yeats -_  
**House Bonus:** Slytherin (Write about a character conflicted between light and dark, 4 bonus points.)  
**House:** Slytherin  
**Wand:** TBA  
**Please PM my full score to me. Thanks!**

To anyone reading this, a review's appreciated! I've never written this character before :).

* * *

Growing up, Blaise Zabini wasn't ever considered _interesting. _Or brave, or particularly cunning or witty. Mostly, he was just… vain. He was vain and rather pretentious, too.

Blaise didn't mind these descriptions of himself. He was good at Quidditch – good at being a Chaser, anyway – he was smart, pureblood, rich, and – in his opinion – rather attractive. Though he was reserved and rarely excited, he knew what he was good at and he was pleased that way. Blaise knew who he was.

Or rather… he thought he did, until the Battle of Hogwarts.

That battle would go down in history, Blaise could tell from the start. Even if he himself wasn't to be mentioned in the history textbooks, Blaise – if he survived through the night – knew he'd never forget it. That night was perhaps his most life-changing couple of hours. It was the night he discovered a raging war inside of himself; a war of light and dark, both grappling for power.

It was the night Blaise couldn't face his own inner turmoil.

* * *

When Draco told Blaise they _had _to find 'Potter, the Blood Traitor and the Mudblood Scum,' he readily agreed. What could he say? Neither Blaise, his mother, nor his past seven fathers ever had any affiliation with Death Eaters before. Draco, on the other hand, had the Dark Mark tattooed onto his own skin. He was perfectly liable to punish Blaise for 'disloyalty to the cause' or whatever the bloody hell he would use as an excuse.

So Blaise had to say yes.

_Yes, I'll help you hunt down Potter and his dirty-blooded friends. Yes, I'll help Voldemort. _

Blaise never liked mudbloods or blood traitors. They were, in his opinion, unworthy. Almost subhuman, like how apes are supposedly as intelligent as us but wouldn't _ever _be considered people. He didn't have anything against exterminating the Potter trio, not really…

Except, was this past year what Blaise wanted in the future? Sure, he was comfortable. The Death Eaters occupying Hogwarts had other things to worry about than pure-blood, vain Slytherin students. But there was no _order _in the world. It was all evil, dark Voldemort against brave, good Harry Potter. Students left class bloody and bruised. Certain students were subjected to torture when the Carrows were in a nasty mood. Graffiti showed up on the walls; things like, _'Harry fights on' _were written. The culprits, when caught, were put through agony. Or so Blaise heard. He didn't dare do such a thing himself.

Blaise Zabini was already conflicted.

But then, in the blasted Room of Requirement, when Goyle was killed by his _own fucking fiendfyre,_ Harry Potter and his scum for friends had to go and save him and Draco.

He'd been saved by his enemy…even though he always learned that the bad guys didn't typically get saving.

Where did that put Blaise? He was in the debt of Harry Potter. The light in him was crawling upward, upward. But he didn't want to fight with filthy excuses for wizards.

He didn't want to owe anyone, either.

* * *

Blaise was hiding behind a pillar, panting, tired. Crouching behind a pillar. Rocking back and forth. Who knew shooting a couple hexes at random people was so exhausting?

Behind his pillar, Blaise witnessed something he didn't ever want to have to witness.

He witnessed the death of a blood traitor, killed by someone on his side. He _knew _there were going to be deaths, but he didn't want to have to bloody watch them. He already felt bad as it was, the Blood Traitor Weasley helping save him and all.

Now, Blaise watched Ron Weasley's brother die, as Ron watched on.

There was an overwhelming sense of guilt that took over Blaise as the Weasley boy stared up at the ceiling, empty, unseeing, still smiling.

He turned away.

* * *

So, there was Harry Potter's limp body.

Harry Potter, the boy who saved Blaise Zabini from death mere hours ago. Blaise never did find a way to pay him back for that.

The crowd stared at Voldemort. They also stared at their last hope, dead on the ground.

Blaise tried to figure out why bad things happened to good people. Why he was on the _evil _side. Why was he was thinking these thoughts in the first place? He was a Slytherin and this was the Second Wizarding War; he wasn't meant to be one of the good guys.

Still, when Voldemort invited those loyal to him to step forth – to join him in the dawn of a new era – Blaise couldn't bring himself to move. And the sole person who did was Draco Malfoy, limping from one side to the other.

He didn't know why he was behaving this way.

_Blaise. Suck it up. Go join Lord Voldemort, like you're supposed to. _

_No._

* * *

Everything about Blaise was falling apart. He was crumbling from the inside out; his centre, his soul, wasn't supporting his body anymore.

He was breaking into pieces.

And so when Harry Potter vanished and chaos ensued, Blaise ran. But not towards the fight.

He ran away from it all.

Away from himself, away from his confused heart, his crumbling identity, his battle between the good and the bad.

It all flashed in his mind. The debt. The death of the Weasley boy. The death of Harry Potter. The promise of a new era. The good and the bad, clawing away at each other inside him.

Blaise didn't want to have to choose.

So he ran.

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I love feedback, just so you know...


	3. How it Came to Be

**Chapter 2 Title:** How it Came to Be  
**Chapter 2 Summary:** The Slytherin house politics came to be, all because of one man's greedy desire for a pure school and subtle revenge.  
**Chapter 2 Word Count: **833 (not including A/Ns)

**Challenge:** Potions (option [c] Write about Slytherin house politics and/or subtle revenge, 5 bonus points for adding a fact about Salazar Slytherin. fact: Salazar Slytherin created the Chamber of Secrets to one day purify the school of Mud-bloods.)  
**House Bonus:** Slytherin: [13] bonus points for taking part, [7] bonus points for writing about a potion and its effects.  
**House:** Slytherin  
**Wand: **TBA  
**Please PM my full score to me. Thanks!**

To anyone else, please review! Your feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Salazar Slytherin could easily be defined as a cunning, ambitious, but also pretentious man. He was the world's potions_ master_, he was clever, he only accepted the best of the best. Sometimes his fellow founders looked down at him. (But he did so in return.) Even his best friend, Godric Gryffindor, reprimanded him once in a while, for his rigid attitude.

Perhaps it was to be expected that Salazar Slytherin's students would continue this legacy. In Slytherin House, it was survival of the fittest, and still is. All the way up until the second Wizarding War, you were given strange looks if you said anything anti-Voldemort. You weren't allowed to be different. You were cold, fierce, aloof and discriminating. The term Mudblood was used frequently; in fact, it was odd and 'too polite' to say muggle-born.

Slytherin was certainly and difficult house to be in at times; but how did it get that way?

The answer was always rather evident. Salazar only chose students who were just like him; he had the smallest house. He taught the smallest group of students, refusing to give instruction to muggle-borns. The Slytherin house was _always_ tough. The students always had so many of the same traits.

But Slytherins were _not _always disliked by default. The hate and divide came subtly, slowly, and it was Salazar Slytherin himself's fault.

"Salazar, you _cannot _continue to refuse to teach muggle-born students." Godric slammed his inkpot onto his oak desk, impatience etched into every line of his face. He looked tired, distressed, and Salazar Slytherin could not care less.

Did the other founders not understand? Witches and wizards that were not pure of race were, ultimately, not wizards. They did not _deserve _to be taught, they deserved to live their average life in towns with the regular folk. He could not comprehend why the other founders would _care_. He had tolerated the existence of Mudbloods in the school, what more could they want?

This fight with Godric Gryffindor had been going on for weeks. Months, years, even. Rowena was too wise to take a side and Helga too timid, but it was obvious that they supported the teaching of Mudbloods. Just like all the other bloody people in the world, it seemed to him.

Noting Salazar's anger, Godric Gryffindor spoke again. "It is impossible to continue this school when you refuse to teach nearly half the students. We are making accommodations, but this cannot go on. Why do you refuse? How are they any different? Please, my old friend, help me to understand."

Needless to say, that particular conversation did not end well. It ended in shouting and ink splattering all over the desk.

It ended in Slytherin losing the respect he had left for Gryffindor. How was it possible that they were once best friends?

As he left the office, Salazar noticed the glinting of Gryffindor's precious sword. On instinct, he touched the locket that hung at his chest. The beautiful sword of Gryffindor was Godric's most precious item, just as the locket was his.

How better to get back at this man – now his enemy – than stealing his most esteemed trophy?

But Slytherin, one of Hogwarts' own founders, would never settle for something as simple as _stealing a sword_.

Not when he could make his revenge much subtler, and _much _more dramatic later on.

After that night, Salazar Slytherin immersed himself in plans. He created something of epic proportions; he created a legacy that would shape the reputation of him and his students for many millennia would come. He sat, completely alone in his office, and devised a way to get back at those foolish excuses for Hogwarts founders.

Salazar Slytherin created his own room beneath even the dungeons of the school, and called it the Chamber of Secrets.

No one suspected him. He greeted the founders with a forced cheerfulness each morning before whisking off to his underground room, casting enchantments day after day. And for his final act, he set a Basilisk egg in the middle of the Chamber.

Now, his school would someday become pure.

And the founders would be long dead.

The cunning man sat in his office at nights, brewing a perfect Stealth potion; his very own creation that took two weeks and an abundance of very carefully chopped-up slugs to make. Upon drinking it, he was given the effects of an Invisibility Cloak; he was, without a doubt, the greatest potions maker of his time.

He sneaked into his old friend's office, drunk with the power of invisibility.

Salazar Slytherin left without a sound in the night, but not without one last prize.

The sword of Godric Gryffindor.

And so began the rivalry between Slytherins and Gryffindors, the great divide between the Slytherins and the rest of the school.

So began the politics, the hierarchy, and the system that we know today.

All because of one man's intolerance.


End file.
